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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934061">Agápe, Philía, Storgē</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_soliloquy_chamber/pseuds/my_soliloquy_chamber'>my_soliloquy_chamber</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed: Odyssey, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:20:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_soliloquy_chamber/pseuds/my_soliloquy_chamber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She stayed in Amphipolis until after the funeral. The event was grandiose. There were speeches lauding his accomplishments and vital importance to the city, and the streets were filled with people seeking to honor and pay respect to their beloved General.</p><p>Kassandra watched it all from a distance. Watched all the love and respect and acceptance they showered over his memory, and she turned away, numb and empty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brasidas (d. 422 BCE)/Kassandra (Assassin's Creed)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Agápe, Philía, Storgē</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>Kassandra stayed in the city for a while after the Battles of Amphipolis. She was both so full of rage, anguish, despair, and so empty, numb, paralyzed.</p><p> </p><p>Brasidas was dead.</p><p> </p><p>The shining beacon of light, love, and acceptance in her life had been snuffed out. He had been the steady center she orbited, her voice of reason, of temperance. </p><p>Brasidas’ love for her might not have been wholly unconditional, but unlike all the other’s, who’s love and acceptance hinged on what she would <em> do </em> for them, and how little she would charge for it, any potential conditions from Brasidas stemmed from his moral center. He wanted less fighting, fewer dead.</p><p> </p><p>When Kassandra appeared before him, he didn’t demand she complete another task before opening his arms and home and heart to her. He only smiled, delight shining in his eyes at the sight of her, and let her in.</p><p>Brasidas allowed her to just <em> be </em> when she was with him.But he <em> inspired </em> her to be a better version of herself. To find a moral center within that aligned with his. If his love was conditional, he never showed it, never alluded to it. He only ever spoke with her about how he viewed the world. Discussed with her how a person could live with the clashing and ever changing rules of the world around them, without losing sight of who they were and should be. He made her <em> aspire. </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Brasidas was dead now. </p><p> </p><p>She stayed in Amphipolis until after the funeral. The event was grandiose. There were speeches lauding his accomplishments and vital importance to the city, and the streets were filled with people seeking to honor and pay respect to their beloved General.</p><p>Kassandra watched it all from a distance. Watched all the love and respect and acceptance they showered over his memory, and she turned away, numb and empty.</p><p> </p><p>She returned to Sparta to the meager scraps of family she had left, only to find herself facing Deimos - <em> the murderer of Brasidas </em> - with her mother’s voice in her ear saying ‘bring him home, no matter the cost.’</p><p>
  <em> The cost was Brasidas, mother. If Deimos comes home, you will have your happiness, mother, but what of mine? Why shouldn’t we both suffer like this?</em>
</p><p>Hate and rage and pain boiled in her stomach when she stared at her once brother, but in the end she couldn’t blame him, and she couldn’t hate him. He was a victim of the Cult, just like her.</p><p>Just like Brasidas.</p><p>
  <em> Those of good character will forgive, and should be forgiven. Less fighting. Fewer deaths.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Stentor was standing up in the hills surrounding Sparta, watching Kassandra ride out of the city for the last time.</p><p>She had made it clear that morning that she was leaving without any intention to return. There had been an argument, screaming, between Kassandra and her parents, and Stentor had taken his newly acquired brother into the hills to hunt.</p><p> </p><p>When he had first met Kassandra, she had been arrogant and proud, but soon showed enough skill to warrant her boastful attitude.</p><p>The second time she had been just the same, but with a conciliatory layer over it all. He knew, she was reaching out an olive branch to him. Trying to communicate that it was different now. They were on the same side, fighting the same fight, and would always. But he had been too proud to bend, too proud to accept.</p><p>Alongside all that arrogance and skill had been something else. Something he now realized was an unquenching thirst for <em> life. </em> She was so <em> alive </em> that it shone through her skin, held her up so straight and tall her feet barely touched the ground.</p><p>When they met again in Sparta, he barely recognized her. She acted the same, spoke the same words, but that light was gone. Her spirit was doused.</p><p>As the weeks wore on, it got worse. Her face settled into a deep frown, her lips tightened until they stopped letting out any but the most necessary words, her shoulders slumped, her back curved.</p><p> </p><p>It all culminated the night before, when the state of Sparta came together to honor and remember their fallen hero.</p><p>They had all been in attendance, listening to the speeches, hearing Brasidas’ family, friends, acquaintances talk about him. Remember their lives with him.</p><p>Kassandra had been steadily shrinking in on herself, face becoming more pale and wan with every word spoken around her. </p><p>Finally, it had happened. Stentor had been one of the few to actually see her break.<br/>Her mask crumbled away and exposed the raw, open, pulsing wound of grief that was consuming her.</p><p>She had fled from the festivities then, only to reappear in the morning. Stoic and resigned and <em> leaving. </em></p><p> </p><p>He turned away from the tiny pinprick disappearing over the horizon and sat down next to his brother.</p><p>“I don’t understand. Why not stay with her family? She lost someone she loved, I understand that, but being with her family, having their support in this difficult time... Isn’t that better?”</p><p> </p><p>Deimos stared at him for a long time before speaking.<br/>“It’s because their stories diminish what Kassandra had.<br/>Brasidas had all this life, all these experiences, all these <em> friends</em>, and she doesn’t know any of it, doesn’t know any of them. The more they speak, the smaller her part of Brasidas’ life becomes. Smaller, less important, worthless. <br/>To Kassandra, it was <em> big</em>, the largest, most important relationship in her life. </p><p>And to Brasidas... she was just one in a sea of many. He spent his life being accepted and welcomed and praised by his community. She’s spent her life just fighting to <em> live</em>. Grateful for every scrap thrown at her, despite those scraps coming with strings and conditions. His love was <em> big </em> and <em> important </em> and, most crucially, <em> unique </em>in her life. </p><p>Her love for him, though welcome and reciprocated, was one of many people’s love.”</p><p> </p><p>Deimos sighed and picked up his spear, walking back down the hill to continue the hunt.</p><p>He stared at the back of his brother. Deimos had fought for those same things, but Stentor didn’t think he had ever succeeded. Even in the small, conditional ways his sister had.</p><p>What Kassandra had experienced during her few weeks in Sparta was only tied to one man. </p><p><em> Deimos </em> was watching an entire <em> community </em> love and accept and welcome each other, knowing he’d never had anything like it in his life before, might never be able to gain it now.</p><p>Their small, dysfunctional family was all Deimos had, and now… his sister had turned her back and left him to fend for himself.</p><p> </p><p>Stentor grabbed his spear and jogged after his brother. They should try to take down something impressive to bring home to their parents. Make them proud.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>From wikipedia: Ancient Greek philosophy differentiates main conceptual forms and distinct words for the Modern English word love: agápe, éros, philía, philautia, storgē, and xenia. </p><p>There's too much info to copy in here though, so just go there and read up on the different kinds and I'm sure the title will make sense.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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